


what makes him act so bad?

by cl0wnf11sh



Series: Mojavefic (Fallout New Vegas: The Ones With Mallory In Them) [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-typical language, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, OR IS IT, Unrequited Crush, i know these tags are sparse as all hell there'll be more soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl0wnf11sh/pseuds/cl0wnf11sh
Summary: A series of short, non-chronological vignettes centered around various character's interactions and relationships with Mallory the Courier.





	1. a beautiful crime

Arcade doesn't pay much attention when he first sees the junkie with the rusty-colored hair stumble into the fort. He's obviously high, hands fluttering all nervous and gait stumbling as he makes his way into one of the empty bunks to sleep off whatever he's on. Strangers hooked on chems or booze come in all the time, so it's no event to see someone from out of Freeside come in for help. They'll either leave in a day or so or keep coming back, and either way, his work doesn't concern the poor fucks addicted to various substances right now. He's still doing his pointless research. 

That's why he nearly misses the guy walking up to Julie like she's an old friend a few hours later, having an animated conversation with her and handing over a few Rad-Away and stimpacks, buying some fixer. Normally their junkies can't afford to have stashes of medical supplies like that, much less hand them over so freely, and the fact that he appears to be friends with their leader's even more surprising. He can't help but be a little intrigued. 

He'd never actually go and talk to him, though. Of course not. He's not the sort of guy with the confidence to strike up small talk with a complete stranger, so he just watches the man with the reddish-brown hair and the worn red button-down as he visits the fort every few days, talking to the locals. Of course, he's incorrect in his assumption that he's not obviously staring- one day he's idly watching him lope around the camp and talk to one of the guards, the Ghoul lady, and he turns his head to stare right back.

Arcade feels his stomach flip and looks down as soon as their eyes connect, face feeling hotter then it normally does even in the heat of the Mojave. He feels a little panicked, later, a remnent of that embarrassment, when the guy comes to sit in his tent and talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn't actually make any referances to catching Arcade looking. He just asks about his work, about why he's not with the other doctors, about his interests, about why he knows Latin- still nervous, and maybe too aware that this guy's much cuter up close, Arcade finds himself rambling and talking too long, getting distracted, and he's caught off guard when he suddenly asks him if he wants to come along with him instead of staying here. 

"Now, why exactly would I do that? It's not like I know you." The man shuffles, like he's not quite sure where to put his hands, and grins in a way that betrays the fact that he doesn't like to smile. "Well, I really do need a handsome doctor to take care of me out in the big bad wasteland." Arcade pauses. 

Well, this certainly is something. God, he is cute, is the thing. Something about the way his default expression is sour, his tangled hair and the scars across his lip and the bridge of his nose, the dusty glasses, the fact that he can't tell if that awful line was purposefully bad or that he's just that bad at sweet-talking, the gunpowder singe marks on his hands- it's just too much, and the fact that he'd probably have a fit if he knew Arcade thought he was adorable was just a cherry on the sundae. 

"...Overt flirtation will get you everywhere, you know. But fine. On one condition." He was going to come with him either way, he knows already. He's weaker then he likes to admit for a cute guy with a bad pick-up line, and anyway, the kid obviously does need someone taking care of him, with the obvious signs of chem withdrawal creeping into his body language and the strange since Arcade's getting that this is the kind of guy to throw himself into dangerous situations without thinking twice about them.

"Yeah, fine, what is it?" The guy chews his lip idly, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes, and Arcade thinks he sees the edge of a large, knotted scar hidden behind his bangs. "Well, you're still a complete stranger, aren't you? Tell me your name." It takes him a second, like he can't quite remember, but he's nodding slightly and speaking after a couple seconds. "Yeah. Mallory."

Arcade double-takes.

This guy's Mallory? He's the kind of scrappy that Arcade finds embarrassingly attractive, sure, but the Mallory he's heard about is a fucking legend, and he's having an embarrassing amount of trouble matching up the stories of a lone gunsman risen from the grave who saved towns, made deals with Khans, and wiped out whole encampments of Fiends with this lanky, scrape-kneed chem addict that can't be any older then Arcade himself. "Mallory. Huh." 

Mallory's shoulders and expression both tighten, like he's expecting Arcade to launch on some spiel about his exploits or turn him down outright on account of the trouble he gets up to. "Yeah. I'll come with you, then." It's another reason to follow him, he's telling himself- Mallory was supposed to have come back from the dead, he's a medical improbability and Arcade can observe him. "As long as you don't help the Legion." Mallory tenses again, in a way that makes him wonder for a second (Shit, is Mallory a Legion sympathizer? No, that can't be true-) but he nods again, confidently and starts walking towards the fort's gate.

Arcade has no choice but to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo, look at me, starting another fic when I have a bunch of stuff to update. this is definitely going to be getting more chapters- More first impressions like this chapter, probably, and some other stuff too. Like I said earlier, definitely not in chronological order. Comment if you have anything to say about any of my writing, I always love some constructive criticism since I'm pretty damn new to fic. All the chapter titles are probably going to be lyrics from Adam Green's album Minor Love, since I associate it pretty heavily with Mallory's characters.


	2. the bore who has a gun

Boone sips on his warm beer and watches the fire that's beating back the cold night air as he tries to remember why he started following around this jackass.

At least he's not too chatty, and he definitely treats legionaries with extreme prejudice, which is all he wants in a traveling companion, but there's something about Mallory that makes him worry sometimes.

He hates to admit it. Honestly, he'd love to think that he's never worried by anything, but ever since he started accompaning the infamous Courier he's been feeling a background level of nervousness caused by his sheer recklessness. It spikes every time he sees him start taking potshots at a nest of Cazadors with his laser pistol, or sees him shoot up ten different kinds of chems before running headlong into a Fiend camp. He tries to tell himself it's just him being put in edge by how damned annoying he is, never turning off his fucking radio even as he constantly complains about how much he hates the host's voice, always smart-talking and stealing things and acting like he's the smartest thing in the wasteland, and it's irritating to no end even when he knows the last point is probably right, but that's just not what it is. It's worry. 

Everything about him is perplexing to Boone. Mostly just how stupid he acts sometimes despite being some sort of genius with medicine and machines. He's asked about where he got his learning a few times, but Mallory just frowned at him and told him to mind his damn business. 

Boone pretends not to notice that he always shoots up right after he asks that, but he stops asking pretty quick. 

He owes him, anyway, doesn't he? That's why he's following him around. He found the bastard that took Carla. Boone owes him enough to make sure he doesn't kill himself before he finally hunts down that guy he's chasing. Sometimes he feels uncomfortable with the fact that Mallory knows so much about him when he doesn't know shit-all vice-versa, but he can deal with that, it's not a big deal. The kid's life is none of his damn business, it's not like they're friends. He overhears stories, as he travels further- stories about how he rose from the dead after catching a bullet square between the eyes, shit like that, but he's not sure any of them are truth. Mallory gets a lot of shit done, he's turning into a legend, people are bound to make up outlandish stuff like that. 

That's what he thought, but he's seen the bullet wound scar on his forehead.

He doesn't know what to think, really.

Boone's jolted out of his bout of contemplation by a noisy snore coming from a few feet away. Looks like the kid finally passed out. He sighs as he sits up a little, turning around to see the gangly form of the man the Mojave knows as The Courier curled in on himself with half-empty syringe of Med-X clutched in one hand. Mallory's got to be cold despite the fire, it's cold as shit out here, and the guy barely has any meat on his bones. 

With a grumble of complaint, he tugs him closer to the fire and pulls a blanket out of his pack, draping it over him. He pauses, halfway though- what is he doing, exactly? He's just had a whole fucking internal dialogue about how he's not friends with the kid, just owes him protection, maybe- _maybe_ worries about him a little. 

Boone just puts the entire problem out of his mind and sits down again. He needs some sleep himself. He'll think about this all later.

**Author's Note:**

> woohoo, look at me, starting another fic when I have a bunch of stuff to update. this is definitely going to be getting more chapters- More first impressions like this chapter, probably, and some other stuff too. Like I said earlier, definitely not in chronological order. Comment if you have anything to say about any of my writing, I always love some constructive criticism since I'm pretty damn new to fic. All the chapter titles are probably going to be lyrics from Adam Green's album Minor Love, since I associate it pretty heavily with Mallory's characters.


End file.
